


A Little Thing You Better Not Forget

by geckoholic



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen, Marvel Ladies Getting Shit Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 01:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: Four women, one cause, and in the end they might just safe the world.





	A Little Thing You Better Not Forget

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tielan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/gifts).



> Geared towards your likes of female friendship and relationships, and women working together. I hope it'll scratch the right spot!
> 
> Beta-read by samira2306. Thank you!! ♥ All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title is from "Survival Shake" by Fury In The Slaughterhouse.

There are phrases that sound comical and unlikely, until their meaning is experienced. Right now, Maria is discovering the meaning of the phrase _even my bruises have bruises_ , and it sure isn't all that fun. Less so since, in her case, it comes with bone-deep exhaustion and a headache that just won't quite no matter how many painkillers she chases it with. She leans back in her office chair, pressing her knuckles to her eyes. Both the headache and the pain in the bruises and cuts on her hands spike in response, and she curses. She's far from a delicate flower, furthest from it, but right now all she wants is a warm bath and a week off to do nothing but sleep and then maybe curl up on the couch to sleep some more. 

Maria sighs and holds up her left hand in front of her face, bends and extends each finger, scowls at the discolored skin. The pain is almost an afterthought, almost a part of her at this point. 

“You should put some ice on that,” comes a female voice from behind her. A familiar voice, and Maria straightens and pulls her hand in for a salute. 

“Director,” she says, meeting the other woman’s eyes. “Yes, I'll be sure to ice that later.”

“Peggy will do fine,” Carter says with a gentle smile. “I think once you pulled your superior out of a burning car, you earned first name basis.” Maria is about to point out that that was nothing special, she did her job, everyone would, but Carter holds up a hand. “I've been planning to talk to you for a weeks now, actually. You know how it is. We're in a busy field of work.” 

“Yes, Ma'am,” Maria says, because that's vague and kid of cryptic, and she doesn't quite know what else to reply. Maybe she'd be more eloquent without the headache. 

Carter's smile gains an edge, a little mischievous, making her seem younger than her years. “Listen, I know I won't be able to do this work for much longer. The body gets slower, the mind starts skipping out of line. And before I go, I want to make sure SHIELD isn't going to turn into the sausage party a few people have wanted it to be from the start.” 

Relaxing her stance, Maria squints at her. “What do you mean?” 

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Carter says, starting back at Maria. “You've been a woman in active intelligence duty for years now.” 

Maria shrugs. Yeah. No need to pretend otherwise. “So?” 

Carter stands up, flinches when she puts her weight on the wrong leg; she didn't emerge out of this mission without her fair share of cuts and bruises either. “You're an excellent field agent, but I think it's time for you to be so much more than that.” 

 

***

 

Jane Foster is a force of nature, which, considering her field of choice, makes Maria smile to herself. She watches the scientist through a double mirror, raging at a couple low-level suits over her equipment and her records. It's not the first time this happened; Jane Foster is also insistent. None of the men trying to wrangle her increasingly passionate requests quite seem equipped to handle that, and briefly Maria wonders if it's got something to do with the fact that, on top of the two other facts, Jane Foster is also _attractive_. They might have an easier time saying no to someone short and stocky, with greasy hair and oversized glasses. 

She pushes the door handle – not to put them out of their misery, but to give Foster someone who'll actually look her in the _eye_ when she talks. 

Foster reels around on the balls of her feet to face her new sparring partner as soon as the door opens, immediately ignoring the two agents in black suits that fall silent at the unexpected interruption, staring at her as well. Maria's unexpected presence doesn't usually bode well for them; it either means a reprimand or unpleasant orders. 

Ignoring them, just because she can, Maria holds her hand out to Foster and schools her face into a polite, indifferent expression. “My name is Maria Hill. I'm with the Director of – “

“You know,” Foster wheel-barrels her, “I kinda really don't care which shadowy government abbreviation you work for. I just want my work. It's illegal to confiscate my _scientific research_ for no good reason whatsoever.” 

“We're acting in the interest of national security,” Maria replies, calm, still biting own on that smile. “The development of the events here have sadly made it necessary – “

Apparently not a sentence Foster wants to her in full, either, because she interrupts Maria yet again, puffing up, hands brace on her hips. “I know that. And I think you'll be much better off letting me help. Analyze all this, help you figure out what the fuck is going on.”

That is surely true, Maria admits, if only to herself. Or it will be, once they have at least a fleeting knowledge of exactly what the fuck _is_ going on in this desert, who the self-proclaimed god is, and why they have gotten three other high alert incident notices his past week alone. 

“I agree,” Maria says, and Foster cocks her head, derailed. 

“Wait.” She rubs her temples. “What did you just say?” 

Now Maria does allow herself that smile. “I said, I agree. We're in a state of emergency right now and I can't do much to circumvent protocol, but yes. I agree. I'd much rather work with you than against you.” 

“Oh,” says Foster.

Maria sweeps a hand at the two agents. “Please make sure you'll leave your contact details with these two gentlemen, and I'll inform you once we can arrange a pickup for your property.” 

That's code for _I'll arrange an opportunity for us to talk with no meddling entrance-level field agents around_ , and whether or not Foster understands, now she holds her hand out for Maria to shake, then glares at the agents, and motions for paper and a pen. Maria will make sure that slip of paper doesn't leave this room, and keep it in a safe place. She's got a feeling they haven't seen the last of Jane Foster, one way or another, and antagonizing her won't do anyone much good in the long run. 

 

*** 

 

No one likes job interviews. Maria is no exception, more so because the posturing and pretense involved don't come naturally to her. She came up in the military, in the intelligence field; she impressed through skill, not big words. 

This one is a formality, paying lip service to proper procedure in a company like Stark Industries so no one feels their toes stepped on, but she'd still much rather be in the field, under fire, than smiling as sweetly as she can at a Human Resources executive with graying temples and specks of dandruff decorating the shoulders of his moderately expensive suit. 

“Ms. Hill,” he says. “Thank you for coming in today.” 

Maria folds her hands in her laps and her lips into a polite smile. “Thank you for the opportunity.” 

He makes a big show of going through the folder in front of him, frowning, like he doesn't see much of anything that convinces him she'll be _a good fit for the company_. She expects to tell him so when his phone rings and he meet her eyes, holding up his hand in apology, before her picks it up. 

“Ms. Potts. Yes. Oh. Very well.” He hangs up and stands, clearing his throat. “It appears there has been a misunderstanding. This won't be necessary. I'll escort you to Ms. Pott's office right away.” 

He doesn't seem particularly pleased by the interruption, nor the implication that his precious opinion doesn't matter. Maria has worked with enough men like him to not feel vindicated anymore, just relieved. 

“Thank you,” she says and follows him to out of the office and towards an elevator. He checks his clocks when they enter the car, a nervous tick, expression discomfort. Once they made it to the correct floor, he steps out ahead of her and then points at a milk glass door at the end of the hallway. Maria is relatively sure that wasn't want Pepper meant when she told him to _escort her to Ms. Pott's office_ but she lets it slide. No use making enemies on her first day. Well. Before her first day, even. 

She knocks on the glass and waits for Pepper's invitation before entering the office. It's nearly noon and the soon flooding in through the large window behind Pepper's desk is blinding, and Maria has a slight suspicion that effect is intentional. 

Pepper stands, her expression bright and cheerful. “There you are! Sorry I had to send you to Miller downstairs first, but, you know how it is.” 

Maria does know, and nods. “Don't worry about it.” 

“Good,” says Pepper, rounding her desk to pull Maria into a hug. “There are a few formalities we have to get out of the way, lie detector test et cetera, because of the high level position you'll hold, but then I'll show you your office. I picked it myself.” With that, Pepper hooks her arm under Maria's, patting her forearm. “I look forward to working with you.” 

 

*** 

 

It's a little eerie, how little difference there is between flying across the ocean on a helicarrier, and flying through space on a... well, a rocket ship, Maria supposes. Sort of. In the widest sense. The view from the bridge is difference, of course, the darkness of space instead of a wide blue sky, but that's really the most striking difference. 

Maria calls up one of the inactive communications windows on her screen and swipes it towards the middle, enlarging it. “Are you sure this will work?” 

“Uh,” says Jane, with a grin that's more bravado than anything else. “I'm a scientist, I don't deal in absolutes. But it's our best shot, that much I'm _relatively_ sure about.” 

She makes a thumbs up gesture and goes back to her own computer screen, that one, Maria imagines, filled with models and calculations. Maria calls up another window, this one offering a familiar view out of the Stark Industries office tower. 

“Did you get all the materials?” she asks Pepper, and doesn't expect anything else than confirmation, considering who it is she's talking to. 

And Pepper doesn't disappoint. “Of course. Sent them off to New Mexico on our fastest plane maybe, uh, ten minutes ago.” 

She slumps down in her chair and sends a glance skywards. Into space, where Maria are, and the man who's name still decorates the building of the company Pepper's heading. Not a fresh wound, by general standards, but Pepper wouldn't be Pepper if she'd just stop caring about people she once loved. “At least I can say that this particular set of expenses went towards saving the _universe_. Maybe that'll keep us from total ruin.” 

“You can always hold a fundraiser,” Maria jokes. “That's one hell of a headline.” 

Pepper snorts a laugh, gives her a little wave, and signs off as well. Maria, for her part, takes a deep breath and calls up the next communications window, meets Roger's worried, expectant stare. 

“Captain,” she says. “Good news. I think we have a solution.”


End file.
